Growing Up
by Til' all are one
Summary: Katlyn's a woman with a haunting past. Memories plague her when she lays down at night. Not to sleep though. No, that hardly ever happens anymore. Add in her endless scars, the huge fraggin' house she shares with a certain family of four mechs and her helping out at the Banes' mechanic shop and you've got an eventful existence. Though, she wouldn't really call it 'existing'.
1. Chapter 1

So, raise your hand if you hate me. *Joins in with the lifted arms*. I don't blame ya. I practically disappear off the radar anytime I get so far into a story. I'm not going to get into some sob story of why I haven't updated. I will, however, inform you that I will probably never continue my other stories. Unless my muses pick back up. Which sounds pretty pathetic. I don't blame you guys if you've have or do give up on me. I deserve it. I'm not even sure why I try to post anything. It causes more harm than good. I apologize greatly for that. Anyways, here's another story. However long it'll last.

This is a Sidewipe/Sunstreaker/OC story by the way. Whenever the Pit that happens. If I even get that far.

NOTE: The first movie (and maybe the second) did happen. Mik and Sam aren't together. She falls for someone else. Sam is an aft as usual. Kae and K have aged (in their lower twenties) but base is pretty much the same. Though, they've grown tremendously. Oh, and Jazz is online. AND there are a lot of 'bots that've arrived.

Warnings: This is an admittedly dark story. It isn't filled with sunshine and rainbows. Beware of reading this. NOT for the faint of heart or sensitive.

Chapter 1

This is not an understood tale. And will never be. It's not filled with sunshine and happiness. Good and hope. It tells the truth about life. Explains what can happen to someone. This is the horror that is Her life. One made of a foundation of tragedy with few supports of love or personal enjoyment.

A year. That first taste of the world outside her encasement of the last nine months. The shining pierce of her established freedom. Shrieking. Cold, gloved fingers. A soft, oh-so-soft, material being wrapped around her. The croon of the nurse holding her.

''Get that thing away from me!'' Her mothers' voice- the screech she'd grown uccustomed to over time- snarled. Even in the first few seconds of her true existence. Always bitterly. Never loving.

''But, Ms. Aurcroft (Are-craw-ft)...'' The nurse spoke. Voice soft, pleading.

''No!'' Her birth reason had snarled. The same one which had plagued her through the years. ''Throw it out! Toss it to the curb! JUST GET IT AWAY FROM ME!''

A grief ridden sob, laced with a single tear, was the woman holding hers response, the scatter of frenzied feet accompanying the scrub-clad woman as she'd fled, bursting through the halls with her still cradled to her chest as she lumbers towards a yammering doctor cheesing down the hall with a RN.

''Dr. Nutrelaus (New-trell-aw-s)! Dr. Nutrelaus!'' Had been his hysterical attention-grabber. Albeit reluctantly in his case.

''What?'' Was his snapped sneer, tone harboring a false sense of patience. Even if it's towards his fiancé.  
Puffs of near-tangible, billowing air flees the nurses chapped lips as she skids to a screeching halt, chest rising and falling heavily beneath her newborn head. Still streaked with fluids as it is.

''The mother did not want her child!'' She'd wheezed.

''Who?'' The doctor had narrowed his dark gaze.

''Ms. Aurcroft!''

''Hmm.'' He'd regarded the both of them with a jaded carelessness. The other woman beside him shifted impatiently, a scowl marring her plastic features.

''Do whatever.'' He'd finally waved a hand in dismissal. ''Just keep it out of my sight.'' He'd turned back to his and the unknown womans' former conversation. Her shooting the nurse a smug look.

Grief-stricken eyes had then locked onto her own wide ones, tears spilling from their corners to mingle with her pink blanket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Time flew by at a crawl through the years. Foster home to foster home to foster home to foster home until she could barely manage to keep them straight. All holding a fake promise of 'love' and 'affection' time and time again. Yet, the overseer of her stays, Karthy Monglet (m-on-glet), kept that optimistic certainty until the very day she took matters into her own hands. And probably even afterwards. She never seemed fully there to begin with anyways.

The first couple years of her life were probably the 'easiest' overall. Compared to everything following that is. She'd managed to stay in but two or three homes during that time. Babies/toddlers were in high demand, afterall. That is, until the day she turned three. Comely (comm-ly) and Dalvid (dal-vid) Sharklary (shark-lry)- whom had been her guardians at the time- had finally gotten sick of taking care of a growing girl- since she wasn't an infant anymore and incapable of 'causing problems'. And thus decided to send her off to the next unfortunate soul.

Which led to another four houses. All only lasting three to five months, before she was tossed back into the sea of candidates. Though, the fifth- when she was nearly four- stay was probably the longest she'd ever had. And the most beneficial.

The man was a retired sergeant with sharp eyes demanding the utmost respect. With a stiff stature that made him tower over her even more so with his 6'5 height. He didn't seem the type to wish to harbor any children,- what with his personality and intimidating age of sixty four- but he turned out to be one of the most suited she'd endured. Over the eight months he'd took her in,- 'raising' her- he showed just why he'd held such a high rank those current several years ago. The way he kept a calm aura about him even when frustrated with her non-existent combat skills. Or when he'd patiently show her how to correct her form and present a strength she didn't quite possess at her lack of age. His training didn't last, however, whenever the system found out that he was teaching a toddler to defend herself. She'd then been thrust back into the maelstrom.

She kept herself occupied through the tide of houses for the next eight years. Practicing all the different forms the soldier- Payne Malestro (mal-eh-stro)- had taught her. Teaching herself how to act out- which she practically never did- against others' ill intentions. And eventually gaining herself a reputation. Though that wasn't until a few years later.

By her thirteenth birthday,- and the latest relocation- she'd met the very first person she could ever call a friend and a new torturer. The former being a girl only six days older than her with brilliant inky black locks and bright blue eyes. Holding the name of Mikaela Banes. And the latter the newest home she'd been shoved into. One of the worst she'll forever be plagued by.

They both went to the same school- Tranquility Middle (7th grade)- and lived only about a block away from one another. Thus, why she was able to ride and walk over there on a daily basis, her dad- Charlie Banes- not minding in the least. That was also where her love of vehicles came into being.

Charlie was- and still is- a mechanic in his own shop: Banes' Car and Care. There, he showed her how to tell the difference between different parts and engines, tear them apart, put them back together and just how to be able to be her own mechanic.

Though, Mik and her time together began to dwindle over the years. The homes she was being thrust into proving to be quite harsh and unforgiving. Leaving her with varied little time to spend with the small family she'd grown close to. That wasn't to say that their closeness tapered off though. Far from it in through the beatings, moving and lack of care from all but Mikaela and Charlie, she remained loyal to a fault and vise versa.

That is, until the day she finally grew tired of it all. The pain- not that she felt it physically, having been numbed long long long ago. The abuse. The breakdowns. Everything. Except that small, broken yet still intact, family.

All the money she'd gathered over the years from numerous jobs- odd or no- was combined into one surprisingly sizeable chunk. The plan that she'd been slaving over in the notebook Payne gave her all those years ago. The grief of possibly leaving the two that'd wound their way into her heart- even if one of them landed in jail. Everything was put into action.

The day she turned fifteen was the same one that the newspapers were filled with the image of a dilapidated building. One which had 'mysteriously' caught flame in the dead hours of the moons' limited light. Inside holding a fostered teenager who was caught in the heat. That was at the exact time that she was fleeing through the streets. Her school bag crammed full of anything but what the name entails, instead holding the meager possessions she owns.

The streets had been mostly bare at the time. Besides the thick bullets of H2O sweeping over the area, seeping into the cracked roads that'd she'd had to practically wade through to reach her determined destination: Mikaela and Charlie's home.

She hadn't even realized she'd already keyed in until gentle, always painfully so, fingers had guided her towards the blackettes room at the back of the plain house. And it was only then- as she snapped out of whatever trance had wound itself around her consciousness- that she'd pulled herself carefully out of that hold. Blazing blues had locked onto her in confusion.

''Mik, come with me. Please.'' She'd grasped onto the dark sleeves of whatever the blackette was wearing at the time. A t-shirt if she recalls correctly.

A deep pain had filled that gaze. Of which still haunts her to this very day.

''I can't.'' Mik had choked out, nearly sobbing. ''With the house and the garage, dad...''

''Shh.'' She'd pulled her in close, allowing her to rest her head in the area between her chest and shoulder as sobs racked the blackettes frame. Offering the only comfort she could. ''I know. I shouldn't've asked.''

''Yes you should've!'' Mik'd wailed near hysterically, clutching to her like a lifeline. ''You should've left. I should be able to go with you. We should be able to stay together. Dad should be here...!''

. Calm, li'l Mikki. I'm here. I won't leave../ She'd switched to the connection they share. One that only the two of them know about- minus a select few others- and only marginally understand.

./But, but.../.

get it out. Let it all out.../

She can still remember that evening as if it'd happened mere moments ago. Mikaela's vulnerable state. Tears. Sobs. Oh, the soul crushing sobs.

Yet, she'd still had to- eventually- flee. As much as it crushed her. Though, not without a parting gift to her best friend.

After that, the money she'd gathered was put to good use. And- between the aid of her one true guardian and his mates- the house she still occupies to this very day was made a reality. Standing at a monstrous thirty feet tall with black and white the only color sticking out amongst the greens and browns of the deserted, twenty five acre landscape of her shared property.

It was there- with the three others who'd been witness into her life- that she truly lived. Where she was able to shove the countless homes she'd been thrust into away. The pain. The grief. The heart ache. The indifference.

Though, she never forgot, nor was she able to, she lived on. If not for herself, then the five who truly give a dang.

That was before she met them. Though, that didn't happen for a long while. When Mik and she had aged slightly, experiencing difficulties and more heartbreak, and Charlie had grown older. Gaining gray tints that Mikki and she still teased him over.


	2. Chapter 2

Line of ... : Between flashbacks.  
Line of ~~~~~ : Going from a flashback to regular time or whatever

Alright, so I have some explaining to do before we get started. Please read this so it'll- hopefully- make more sense.

Rage is my OC. I'm sorry if anyone else has used this designation, but it's actually the name of my dads truck. (I know I'm weird.) He's Barricade, Bonecrusher and Blackout's mechling. Though, he got his final upgrades a year or so prior. He's solid black and his alt mode is a 2010 Chevrolet Silverado. Blackout is his carrier also. Second off, 'Cade, 'Out and 'Crusher are not their 'usual' selves. They would actually be the 'originals'.

When the war was just beginning, Megatron learned of their talents and set about trying to get them to join the Decepticon cause. When they refused,- wanting to stay neutral- he was- obviously- infuriated. He sent a number of different mechs to find the three. And even had a bounty set on their helms when that didn't work. Eventually though,- after all his plots failed- he had Shockwave make clones of the three. And also of Starscream and his trine, Soundwave and his cassettes when they also refused. So, pretty much all listed are actually neutrals and have evil doubles. (Which sounds so weird now that I think about it.) Barricade, Bonecrusher and Blackout's 'twins' were offlined during the first movie. The others are still online though. Oh, and Blackout's character is _completely_ OOC. I did that on purpose. I like him acting goofy and find his character likeable like that. He's fine either way I guess, but still.

Hopefully it'll make more sense now. Just tell me if it doesn't.

Disclaimer (Since I forgot last chapter): I don't own Transformers. Only Rage, Katlyn, any other OC's that pop up and the plot.

Chapter 2

 _Sharp eyes concealed_ _from the world lock onto the tattered wall managing to stand proud and tall before her. The multi-colored target sloppily painted in rings sticking out blaringly, even with the holes littering its surface._

 _Digits twitching against metal proceeds the shriek of air, accompanied by the connection of the blade in the corner of the blue ring. A disappointed sigh clears her lips as a steady clomp of boots bids her attention, a glance over her shoulder yielding the familiar drawl of apathetic lips._

 _..._

 _Her back hits the wall with a solid thump. Bones most definitely crying out in an unheard plea. Her mind blanks to its usual blur_ _as blow after blow is lashed over her skin, surely leaving marks. Though, she doesn't notice, nor particularly care. The only thing that keeps her grounded is the presence soothing her mentally. Talking about everything and nothing. Streaming steady threads of love and calm. The only ground in this tornado of emotion and 'I'm worthless' 'I deserve this'._

 _..._

 _''GIRL!''_

 _Her breath rushes out in inaudible pants against the sharp wind slicing through the thin jacket concealing her torso. Her Converse connect with the shattered road in harsh strokes. Feet pound behind her with a dreadful speed, the legs they're connected to being much longer than her own. An unforgiving grasp stalls her trek through the darkened neighborhood, swinging her around to send her flying into the concrete._

 _Her back connects with the hard street, skull thunking_ _down to lay on its floor as they both surrender to further torment._

Green eyes crack open to stare at the faintly visible ceiling, blinking to clear the haze away. Her back slowly straightens into an upright position with three successive cracks, fingers following its lead when she balls them into a fist and presses them against the opposite palm.

A sigh escapes her chapped lips as a hand monotonously drags down her face. The events she'd just been privy to thanks to her devious memory deciding to grace her with those unforgettable acts in her life weighing her down more than she'd like to admit.

Her bare feet connect with the gray-carpeted floor silently as she slips away from the warmth of her oh-so-soft blanket and sheet, standing on unsteady legs to pad through the open door of her bedroom.  
The tv can dimly be heard playing as she tromps down the stairs, already knowing the others are online and not seeing any reason in hiding her presence since they already know she's up as well. And has been throughout the entire night.

Slouched over the slab that was made into a couch is Barricade- her guardian- and Bonecrusher. Both of whom offer her grunts of acknowledgement, crimson optics solely focused on the movie their watching. And is that Men In Black?!

''Femme!'' An all too familiar, squealing war cry sounds behind her. She has just enough time to brace herself before she's abruptly scooped up and squished to a pleasantly warm chassis, directly over the hum of his spark.

''Hey, Blackie.'' She greets in turn, ghosting a hand over the metal she's being smothered against soothingly.

''You're suffocating her.'' 'Cade calls, gaze still trained lazily on the flatscreen.

''Oh! Sorry!'' He pulls her away slightly, just enough to where oxygen can actually flow through her lungs.

She offers him a consoling smile. ''It's fine.'' She pats his closest digit.

Beaming at her, 'Out bounds over to unceremoniously flop between his two mates, scooching in and forcing them to move off to the sides. They growl slightly at his antics but shortly return to their entertainment.

''Hey, squishy?'' Blackout peers down at her from her renewed position on his thigh through his steady digits running through her mop of curls.

''Yeah, 'Out?''

''Do you have to work today?''

''You know the answer to that.''

A whine bubbles out of his vocalizer. ''Noooo!''

''You know I have to.''

''No you don't!''

'''Out, shush before 'Cade and 'Crusher pulverize you.'' She chastises gently, referring to the glowers aimed at the biggest, yet most softsparked, of the three.

''They love me too much!'' He grins giddily, thrusting his arms out to wrap around his bondeds, earning low growls.

''Blackie...' She warns, planting her hands on her hips in a 'don't test them, or me' display.

''Fine.'' He pulls away reluctantly, crossing his well-armored arms over his chest plates, obviously pouting.

Her arms drop as she sighs, running a weary hand over her face as she turns around to settle back down into a sitting position, arm propped up on her cheek to watch J's chocolate milk craving unfold.

A gust of air blows over her,- disheveling her attire and mass of multi-colored spirals- holding the scold, concern and short bundle of other emotions she's all too aware of the mech she's seated on holding. The bond between them opened slightly as it always is.

''Don't start, Blackie, please.'' She grumbles into her palm, not wishing to interrupt the moment.

''Fine.'' He huffs, no longer pouting, though the 'we will talk about this later' remains unsaid. Unneeded as it is.

The rest of the movie is spent in companionable quiet. The only sound being from the blaring tv speakers and the occasional Blackout giggle or rough grunting chuckle from Barricade or Bonecrusher.  
By the end though, she's reluctant to leave their side but knows there's no use in delaying the inevitable. It's never gotten her anywhere, afterall.

''I'm gonna go get ready I guess..'' She mumbles unenthusiastically, rising to her feet fluidly and stepping lightly- not that it's hard- over the length of black armor until she can jump to the ground, landing easily and straightening with a creak.

Acknowledgements rise behind her as she exits the room, bounding back up the stairs from long practice- having full on sprinted up and down them more times than she could count- to trail into her room, door shutting behind her with a squeal.

The drawers of her dresser are yanked open with a remembered ease, hand rummaging around until she finds what she desires from all three of them. The worn black Metallica long sleeved shirt, ripped and beyond-faded jeans are thrown on in short order, along with her black Converse. Of which are the very same ones from her memory earlier. The thought makes her eyes clench in a moment of pain.  
Though, it lasts for all of two seconds before she's making her way back downstairs. Where she grabs her keys, wallet, knife and chain from the human sized table at the bottom of the staircase.

''I'm out.'' She states bluntly after clipping the shiny piece of metal along her waist and stuffing her other essentials in her pockets, waving slightly.

Grunts are her reply. Along with Blackout's cheerful ''byyyyyyye, fleshy!''

The clang of metal follows her shaking head as she makes for the monstrous- compared to her admittedly puny size- doorway leading into her mechs' shared quarters and- ultimately- the entrance and exit of the garage. She still ponders over the four of their organization skills in building the place.

Inside is the hunk of metal that could easily hold six Blackout's, the nightstand and cluttered-with-'Out's-random-junk desk. A black mass can be seen on the edge of the berth closest to her, arm dangling over the edge and providing her with ample opportunity to climb up.

''Rage.'' She pats the younglings chassis once atop him firmly, yet lightly, even with her size.

A single midnight optics unshutters slightly to focus on her, a grunt serving as a greeting as the arm she'd used to climb up clamps over the appendages.

''That's what you get for staying up all night.'' She lectures her charge halfheartedly. Earning a grumble.

''Like you can talk.''

''I know.'' She nods in agreement. ''Still.''

A low groan is her only warning to move aside- which she does, hopping down to land beside him on the berth- as Rage rolls onto his side, shoving an arm into the metal to support him into a sitting position, servo still rubbing over his optics.

''Sorry, buddy.'' She pats his side in empathy. ''I can walk if you want to stay and recharge.''

A glare is her answering 'Pit, no'.

Her mechling-just-in-his-final-upgrades pushes off of the berth, landing with a clank after the two foot gap from the floor. He wordlessly offers her a servo- of which she immediately clambers onto- before thundering out of the room, towards the garage where he lowers her to the floor so he can transform. His engine revs in successive bursts as the drivers side door pops open, music beginning to pump through the box speakers he'd had her install beneath his backseats as she climbs in. The slightest of smirks tilts her lips at the song choice: Yellow Brick Road by Eminem.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for any mistakes. I read over this but I had to fix all the italics and such as I went so I was pretty distracted. I'd go back, but I'm thoroughly displeased with technology right now and don't feel like dealing with its bullslag at the moment- I will anyways though, but still. And I apologize for the other chapters. There are so many things that need fixed because of the stupid sites I have to transfer my chapters from. I was going to correct them now but I think if I don't get away from my laptop, that I'm going to throw it out the window for the wind and rain to do as it pleases. Sorry again.**

 **I'm just going to leave these here. I'll probably just do it like this from now on** **I don't know though:**

Line of ... : Between flashbacks.

Line of ~~~~~ : Going from a flashback to regular time or whatever

Lines of **** : Page Break

Between memory and reality/ a small rememberance: ~~~~~~~~...~~~~~~~~

False perception: ==...==

+Thought+

/Phone/

/\Bond/\ \/

][Comlinks][

[Song lyrics]

 _ **Learning designations and junk**_

Chapter 3 _(There's a distinct pause between chapters by the way. Just a random one for now.)_

 _The wind ghosts over the long sleeves of her shirt and across her bared-through-her-jeans knees, showing off the scrapes and bruises most would brush off as her being a kid. The rocky ledge below her beckons her closer tantalizingly. Her Converse-clad feet firmly stay locked in place. Despite the ingrained urge to_ just let go.

...

 _''Just let go_.'' _A sickly sweet voice croons in her ear._ _''Do it. You know you want to_.''

 _The bond between Mik and her is pounded on relentlessly as the slightly older girl hammers against the wall that'd been drawn up against her and all the others. If not for her safety, then to shield her from the malicious being currently stroking a hand through her ragged blond balls of frizzy spirals. The act done with a false sense of love and care._

 _''Come on, sweetie.'' That voice continues. ''Just let go. Let it take you. Devour you_.'' _Their voice changes. Holding a roughed edge much resembling a witches. ''Let them care for you.''_

 _Mik's efforts double. Triple. Quadruple. Until- if she'd been doing so physically- her knuckles turn a forbidden crimson. The very thought nearly causes bile to rise in her throat._

 _''_ _ **K**_ _!''_

She shoots into an upright position with an inaudible gasp, panicked gaze darting around the room in a frenzy. Her fisted hands locked around her blanket shake noticeably. A gale of emotions swirling around her mind until she's forced to yank the oh-so-soft covering over her head, hoping futilely that it'd ward the memories away. Cast them to the far expanse of her cranium. She doesn't succeed.

...

 _Harsh laughter. Surrounding her. Closing her in. Encasing her very being._

 _''You know you can do it! You've done it before!''_

 _The wall follows her. No matter where she turns. Where she attempts to stray._

 _''Time and again! You'll do it! FOREVER! And I'll enjoy it! You'll enjoy it! Oh, the visions!''_

 _Blood decorating the walls. The clack of the belt. The gleam of the knife. The plunge. Guffaws. Comfort. Stab. You're so worthless! Stab. Don't listen to them! Stab. Why isn't she dead?_

 _''Do it! Just do it! Do it! I know you can! You know you can! LET GO!''_

An agonized wails sounds out across her mind. Seemingly ringing out against the cracks. The slices. The spurts of dark red. All seemingly harmonizing through the room.

 _''Come, my sweet. Let it happen. All will be well. Forget them. They don't care about you anyways. Just let go.''_

 _The cold metal pressing into her wrists and back. The synchronized voices urging her on. Should she? NO! You have to stay! For them!_

 _''Surrender. It's so easy. Just let go. Please? For me? For us? For you? Come now, dear, just do it!''_

 _NO!_

 _''YES, my dear! Yes!''_

Her pillow is crushed over her face. As if that will 'save' her from the evil. Sweat gleams over her concealed body in layers, dripping down to blend into her sheets and soaking into her pillow and blanket.

...

 _''DO IT! PLEASE! For us dear! DOOO IIIITTTTTTTTT!''_

 _The room spins in a dizzying lop side. The walls deteriorating around her. The clutch of their grasp grabs hold of her flesh, bruising the already marred over and over skin._  
...

 _''Here's the blade, my dear! We'll even help you! Just one cut! One stab! It'll all be done! Do it! Do it!''_

Her own pocket knife- the one Mikaela and Charlie surprised her with on her fourteenth birthday- calls out to her in a demanding plea. The metal pressing into her side from its always-there position. Begging. Pleading. Just jab it in already!

...

 _''DO IT, MY DEAR! Plunge it in!_ _Allow the metal to flow through you! Stab it in! Deep! High! Slow! Do it! DO it! DO IT!''_  
 _That wail. It's plagued her for so long. And will for furthermore. It's so annoying. Trying to keep them from her. No. No! Not again!_

The barrier hording her restrained emotions at bay bursts open with all the subtly of a bull ramming into a light pole. Her bonds remained clamped closed from a safe lock she'd long since set up, despite four particular ones hammering against her walls in an effort to break in. To comfort her. To save her from the evils of her never-ending past. Though, she doesn't allow them in. Doesn't want them to feel her overwhelming, all encompassing, tide.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _ **''NO!''**_

==...==

 _The bestial supposedly-human shrieks in dismay as she slams the knife into the concrete below her. Blade shattering at the contact to scatter along the concrete floor. A bellow pierces through the air._

The fog clears from her mind slightly. True awareness returns as she darts into a sitting position. Free gasping breaths rock her frame and she finally notices the slick coat clinging to her skin, the moisture doing nothing for her scorching body. Her gaze lands on the sun peeking sheepishly through the disheveled curtains a few feet away.

A hand sweeps over her face as her shoulders sag in exhaustion, a sigh worming through her lips. A jab against her soul garners a wince though. And she then realizes her sealed bonds are being relentlessly pounded against by Mikaela, Barricade, Blackout and Bonecrusher. The flood gates are practically opened as she allows the mental locks to disengage, the woman and mechs shoving through the proverbial doors she leaves between them to bombard her with comfort. Love. _We're here._

It's then that her posture completely deflates, face drooping into her palms where she lets out a heart shattering sob. She cries into the end of the bed she'd sometime collapsed into for the rest of the wee hours of the early morning. The memory stays with her the entire time. As it always does. Though, it fades into the background. The beasts of her torture slinking into the shadows and seething over her distorted 'victory'.

 _ **Author's Note: Thanks for the views and such by the way guys. I didn't figure very many people would actually like this. But we hit fifty views today! Thank you so much!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I'm bored and it's hot, so here ya** **go. If anyone even reads this thing.**

 _ **Chapter 4**_

Shrewd eyes glare at the target some thirty feet away. The blade in her grasp twirls between her fingers with a deft ease. The grass and wind tickles her always-dark clothes, causes her multi-colored locks to sway, and to ghost over the bottoms of her camouflage boots.

...

 _''Steady. You want the blade to fit in your hands. Even if it wasn't precisely made for you. Make it work.''_

A shriek slices through the air. Being the product of the made-projectile now lodged in the target 'Cade had set up for her some time ago. Adrenaline rushes through her.

...

 _''Like that?'' Bright greens dulled slightly overtime blink up at the man towering over her. Analyzing her. Picking her apart._

 _A nod is her answer. ''Do it again.''_

A sigh billows out of her nose as she stalks towards the target, yanking her blade free and returning to the indent she'd made in the grass from standing in that precise spot for an extended period of time. The process repeats. Throw. Retrieve. Return. In a seemingly endless cycle. One she's long used to.

Behind her, Barricade, Blackout and Rage regard the girl. The former with the scrutinizing intensity of a teacher watching over his student. The middle watching her play fetch with her prized weapon- besides the ones they'd made for her themselves- from his slouched position against the side of the building for them to piddle around with whatever their sparks desire, optics shuttered to near-slits and faceplates set in a rare frown. And the latter sitting beside his carrier Indian style, optics analyzing her moves and categorizing them for later use. Like for when he's being taught more than how to defend himself.

Thunderous thumps shake and rumble the ground and everything on it as Bonecrusher lumbers up to them. He stalls to the side of and just behind 'Cade to watch the multi-colored organic femme as well with a jaded drawl. A grunt escapes him.

''What's her problem?'' He rumbles.

Barricade shakes his helm wordlessly.

He receives another grunt.

Their little 'show' continues for the next couple hours or so. The former blond going from different weapons and practicing her efficiency with them. And even sometimes going so far as to execute a few different forms she's learned. Ranging from different human ones, to others they'd taught her themselves. Though, Bonecrusher had long since- meaning ten minutes in- moved off to 'play' with his own weapons.

Despite the three mechs being neutrals, that doesn't mean they don't enjoy divulging in the weapons they were sparked with. Let alone different skill sets. While they'd never use them against anybot unless absolutely necessary, it was still just plain enjoyable to watch targets explode or to see their partners' expression as they faceplant into the dirt.

Though, watching the human femme that involuntarily wormed her way into their sparks practically kill herself further like this weighted heavily on them. As it always did and will. Even somebot as indifferent as Bonecrusher found himself quite enjoying her company. And it angered him greatly to see how others have made her.

After a while, a sigh escapes her lips and she tosses her hair back as it billows into her vision from the wind skirting over the area. Her shoulders loosen slightly and she sheaths the blade Blackout had made her. It had come to a surprise to her just how good her mechs were at crafting miscellaneous gadgets. But it turned into gratitude when they eventually taught her how to make her own. One never knows if they'll ever be truly needed, but it never hurt to have them just in case. Besides, it's a quite enjoyable 'hobby'.

The weapons she'd used during her venting session are carefully maneuvered into her arms- after she makes sure the safeties are on and blades covered so she doesn't impale anyone, you can never be too cautious, after all. Only once her arms are near completely occupied does she march over to the small building beside the one 'Out had been using as a leaning post earlier. Her armful is adjusted so she can key her password into the padlock and press her hand against the scanner. Only after it reads over her signature and she pings in using a part of her link does the metal door hiss and slide aside.

The small building similar to the ones that have been quite popular lately- though, the only difference is that she crafted it herself and it's completely metal and blast proof- is filled with an arsenal most anyone and everyone would question her sanity over. There's anything ranging from knives to daggers to full length swords, cannons, handguns, machine guns, a stray bazooka or two, you name it. Though, most all of her weapons had been handmade by her, her mechs or Mikaela when she finally allowed herself to teach her. Then, there was the fact that they were made from Cybertronian metals. With a few also having energon coursing through them. But that only came into being after she managed to learn how to synthesize it for her mechs.

That was a memory that caused her great joy, chagrin and accomplishment- something she practically never feels. Joy in the fact her mechs wouldn't have to concern themselves over whether they'll be able to function. Chagrin in the fact that there were many many failed attempts and a time or two where Mikaela wasn't allowed over for extended periods of time, less she be exposed to deadly concoctions. Plus the time- when she'd first started out- when 'Cade, 'Out, 'Crusher and Rage- though he was awfully young to fully understand- nearly had a spark attack from pure worry when she'd had energon- or what was supposed to be- splattered all over her front after it decided to detonate shortly. It was then though that they all learned- in major shock and bemusement on their part- that she was susceptible to their life blood and wouldn't become, essentially, poisoned by the substance. It actually seemed to strengthen her systems, in fact. If only slightly. And accomplishment over the fact that she actually managed to do something for someone. Somebots in this case though.

Once everything is settled in their allotted spaces, she slips her pocket knife- one of the only weapons she practically never leaves in 'storage'- back in its constant position. Her fingers ghost over the area it lays gently. Lovingly. Before she's thumping out of the building, boots ringing loudly over the metal of her own volition.

''Better?'' The growly voice of 'Cade questions after she secures her workroom. Though he already knows the answer.

''Mm.'' She grunts, padding down until her steel toes are planted firmly in the grass. ''Sorry.''  
He grunts himself in reply.

''Ya'll ready to head in?'' She calls out to him, Blackout, Rage and Bonecrusher. They nod.  
Not long after finds her raiding the refrigerator for a can of MTN Dew. Her mechs already seated at the table made specifically for them with the cubes she'd poured from them in servo. She'd been the last one inside, after all, and therefor lost 'Out's 'challenge'.

'' _Whoever's in last has to get the energon_!'' The bratling had declared. She'd then- in her 6'6 glory- been left in their metaphorical dust. Even Bonecrusher and Rage 'abandoning' her after flashing quick smirks. It was all in good fun. And they knew she truly doesn't mind 'spoiling' them.

''Gotta head to Mik's tomorrow.'' She reminds after scaling up to her usual spot in the middle of the table. She flops down unceremoniously as usual with a grunt, popping her drink open to take a swig. Several snorts sound at her actions.

'Cade nods in understand. Bonecrusher looks bored with the entire conversation- despite it just being a statement. Rage seems like he could care less. And Blackout- bless his spark- had lost all pretenses of cheer, a sulk overtaking his features. It immediately makes her feel like a complete and utter afthole.

Which causes Barricade to shoulder his younger mate, glaring at him in a lessened form of his renowned 'acid glower'. He receives a yelp and deeper pout for his actions. Though, his dejection decreases slightly.

''Tell her I said hey?'' He perks up. The very epitome of bipolar.

''Of course.'' One of those rare smiles tilts her lips.

The black mech immediately cheeses at the expression. Proud of his accomplishment.

Some nine hours later finds her back in the cell that is her room. The curtains drawn back slightly to alleviate hear slight fear. Not of the dark itself, but what can be found within it. The thought makes her mentally sigh.

Every day is the same. The nights even more repetitive. Escape her memories' grasp. Haul herself out of day. Go through the stages of her day, however they may go about. Return with her mechs for them to get their evening cube. Not eat. Spend time with the small family that'd took her in. Slink up to her room. Stare at the ceiling. Suffer through whatever memory her mind resurfaces throughout the night. Wax on. Wax off. Repeat. An endless chain. One which she's grown accustomed for never changing.

Curling onto her side, she wraps the blankets about her loosely. A hand reaching out to stroke over brown and black fur. Her beloved German Sheperd stuffed animal seemingly smiling at the gesture as he lay perched on the 'nest' she'd thrown together for him. With her memory purges, she's deathly afraid of him laying with her for fear of unconsciously lashing out and damaging him. She'd never forgive herself if that were to happen. Inanimate or no, he still means the world to her. Right up there by the tie that is Mikaela, Charlie, Barricade, Blackout, Bonecrusher and Rage.

Her eyes flutter closed with the thought of her family in mind. Strange as they may be. She wouldn't have them any other way though. Sleep doesn't come as always, but as long as they stay by her, she'll continue to suffer whatever wishes to devour her. _Always._

 **Author's Note: I don't know why I'm posting this. But hey, if someone's actually following Growing Up, here ya** **go!**

 **Hope ya'll** **enjoyed! :)**


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